Lynch Who?
by lensestothestars
Summary: An insight into the mind of Lynch, and his obsession with Lee. Slight slash.


He could still feel it, even now. Subconsciously, Lynch placed his palm just over the top of his chest, not allowing it to brush the fabric. He daren't remove the creases that had been put there by such a savage hand. Accidentally, a fingertip touched the soft, blue fabric, and he felt a tingle of electricity leap up from the contact. Not actual electricity, you understand; this was excitement on another level, something that only he and Lee could understand. No one else had any conception of their relationship, of that he was certain.

_Lee seized Lynch by the front of his shirt, eliciting a surprised noise from the other, a noise not necessarily of disproval, but rather of delighted unexpectedness. "Shut this down!" Lee demanded, his eyes full of a darkened rage. Lynch's own anger vanished almost immediately; Lee looked ready to kill, and he _liked _that look._

"Sure…" said Lynch slyly. "But don't you want to know why I really picked you? Why you?"

_It was borderline unadulterated pleasure to see that momentary, dithering confusion return to Lee's face for just a second. Such a clever boy, he knew, but Lynch took satisfaction in always being one step ahead of him. How else would he be able to retain control of their game? "V.P. said 'cause I couldn't be brainwashed…"_

"But there's way _more…"_

"So spill it!"

Lynch wet his suddenly dry lips with a dart of his tongue. Of all of the places to return, his own house was more than likely the most ridiculous, which was precisely why he had done it. He was nervous, as any sane person would have right to be in his situation, but the adrenaline was still coursing through his veins. He had gotten up close and personal to Lee once again, as himself, and Lynch _loved it._ Lee was a fascinating creature all of his own, but Lynch felt a particular attraction to how easy it was to read the detentionaire; his cunning and lies might have been able to trick his teachers, should the need call for it, but in moments of true plot twists Lee let all be revealed on his face. Lynch lived for those moments, in which he revealed part of his plan – or, his and Victoria's plan – to Lee. Because, in those moments, he could see a small glimmer of 'wow' in those dark eyes of his. What could be a greater compliment than appreciation, intended or not, from the master prankster? He felt clever, in those moments; powerful, in control. He felt dominant.

He let a hollow, crazed laugh escape, one that did not echo around his room but he chose to imagine it did. How dramatic Lee would find that. How exciting, too. It had been doubtful at first, choosing Lee to be the subject in their plan, but Lynch had insisted that beneath his neutral, kind exterior there was a hot-blooded trickster far more willing to break the rules than his past as a Mathlete would suggest.

Oh, but Lee wasn't without his own little fans, Lynch was more than aware of that. At the question of 'Who would miss you if you were gone?' Lynch could vividly remember seeing the adoration in Tina's eyes as she proudly proclaimed 'I would!' Feeling a clenching sensation come over both his chest and his head, Lynch reached into his pocket, extracted a packet of peanuts and proceeded to crush the entire thing in his fist. He imagined it was Tina he was crushing. Lynch had a penchant for eyes, and if that wasn't abject devotion in the eyes of Tina when she looked at Lee then he would drown himself in a river of Green Apple Splat. In that respect, Lynch supposed he and Tina were not so different; the only real difference was that one of them was worthy of Lee's attention, and the other was not. Interference in their game was not something that Lynch was willing to tolerate.

Lynch let the crushed packet fall to the carpet. A twitch, a pulling of the upper corner of his mouth, signalled amusement as a thought struck him. He scrambled for an unused Post-It note and a pen. He scrawled on the note in a frenzy, pressing down so hard that he tore completely through the last word. No matter. It was quite appropriate.

_'Knock knock.'_

'Who's there?'

'Lynch.'

'Lynch who?'

'Tina.'


End file.
